


DON'T LOOK BACK (the unknowing mix)

by elfiepike



Category: Arashi (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-04
Updated: 2006-07-04
Packaged: 2017-10-13 14:04:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/138185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elfiepike/pseuds/elfiepike
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ohno wakes up, alone. For a moment he does not know where he is, and then, in a rush: I am outside the city walls. I am outside the city walls.</p>
            </blockquote>





	DON'T LOOK BACK (the unknowing mix)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Don't Look Back](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/1982) by Originaru. 



> Thanks to [](http://originaru.livejournal.com/profile)[**originaru**](http://originaru.livejournal.com/) for allowing me to do this. Beta by the lovely [](http://aeslis.livejournal.com/profile)[**aeslis**](http://aeslis.livejournal.com/)!

I. THE WOLF

Ohno wakes up, alone. For a moment he does not know where he is, and then, in a rush: I am outside the city walls. I am outside the city walls.

Nino is not here.

Ohno sees the path Nino must have taken. He sees where Nino's footsteps must have fallen, silently, while he still slept. He brushes himself off and thinks: "There is nowhere I can go, except onward."

He follows the path as far as he can.

Ohno has never before left the city walls.

The light is pale through the canopy of leaves. The air is quiet, and cool. Time passes without him knowing how or why. Day turns into night; Ohno can't bring himself to look up to the sky.

Nino must know these woods, Ohno thinks.

Nino must know these woods, and Nino must know how to hide his way.

There is a sound, a rustling of branches, just behind him. Ohno turns, startled.

A man stands there, young and comfortable in the dark; Ohno is sure there was no one there before.

"Hello," the man says.

"Who are you?" Ohno says. He is afraid, just a little. It's not something he's used to feeling.

"You can call me Jun," the man says. He smiles, a row of white teeth. "And you?"

Ohno feels his heartbeat in his ears. He's had people who've looked at him like this before, like he was something to touch and eat with leisure. (One had said to him: _Ohno, Ohno, you are as sweet as your voice, please, please._ )

He takes a step backwards.

Jun's smile grows secretive. "I'm not going to hurt you," he says. He walks forward, closes the distance between them. "I just want to know your name," he says.

Ohno takes another step backwards, and stumbles; there has been no real path for hours, now, and the way is tangled with roots and brush and stones.

Suddenly Jun is there, his hand on Ohno's wrist, catching Ohno, holding him. "What's your name?" he says, and there it is, that look again, but on Jun's face it's somehow savage.

Ohno twists, but Jun's grip is tight. He can't make a noise, his voice is caught in his throat.

There is a noise in the branches; a bird flies overhead, and then a shout: "Oi!"

A rock, small, pale, smacks across Jun's knuckles. He starts backwards, his instincts wild, his howl fierce in the night air.

Ohno feels frozen, his mind is completely blank with shock--and then Jun glares at him, reaches out, his nails a jarring, bright red--

Ohno turns and runs, his clothes catching on the tree branches and tearing, each breath is a gasp.

 

II. THE MINSTREL

He would run forever if he could; he stops short at the sight of a smiling face in firelight. He stumbles into the small clearing without meaning to, but he can't control his feet any longer.

The man stands just beyond the other side of the fire, in the awkward pose of one prepared to move but unsure of which direction, tall, in stripes and solid swooping patterns of fabric like Ohno has never seen before. He holds a rock in one hand.

Ohno stares.

"You're all right, then?" the man says. His smile is so bright, infectious. "Would you like to sit down with me?" He gestures, and Ohno notices the hard, sturdy case resting on the ground some feet away from the fire.

That, Ohno recognizes. "You're a musician." It puts him at ease, just a little. He moves closer.

The man's grin grows wider still, and he stands up straight, only to bow theatrically. "Aiba Masaki, at your service. Though I hope you won't need anymore rescuing; it was really just a lucky shot. Usually my aim isn't that good, especially in the dark. Please, sit."

Aiba manhandles Ohno into sitting on his blanket. He passes him a heavy bowl, full of something thick and savory. "Here, please."

Really, a smile that inviting shouldn't exist, Ohno thinks. He eats something, and suddenly can't stop himself; he had forgotten how long it's been since he left the city, and how long before then that he had been fed.

"Thank you," he says, in between mouthfuls.

Aiba has taken out his instrument, some kind of large-bellied mandolin from what Ohno can tell, and tunes it in practiced patterns. "Help yourself to it!"

"No," Ohno says. "I mean, before--"

"It was--like I said, it was a lucky shot," and Aiba's grin turns sheepish.

Ohno finishes the stew to the quiet sound of plucked strings. Gradually it becomes a melody, something he recognizes; he can't help but hum along.

"Ah!" Aiba says. "I knew it!"

"Don't stop playing, please," Ohno says. "Wait, you knew what?"

"I knew you must be from the city, even though you look like a fugitive." Aiba seems delighted by the discovery, and his hands are quick on the instrument.

Ohno looks down at himself. It's probably true, he thinks, that not many people would dress like this for traveling.

That hadn't been the first thing on his mind, really, when he first left the city boundaries behind, his hand tightly grasped--

"Is it safe here?" He asks it to interrupt his own thoughts.

Aiba, a professional, keeps playing, but from his face it's clear that he's giving the matter some thought. "Safe as it can be, I would guess."

Ohno shivers, less from the cold than the remembered feeling of those eyes.

"Ah, here." Aiba passes him a blanket.

Ohno takes it, and then thinks: perhaps this is the only one he has. "You'll be all right?"

Aiba nods. "I'll be fine. Please, rest."

And there's his smile again, so inviting, trustworthy.

Ohno falls asleep to a lullaby that he knows by heart, and the dying light of the fire.

   
In the morning, Aiba says: "would you like to travel with me?"

Ohno says: "To where?" His head is full of cotton.

Aiba points towards the rising sun. "That way, to the city. I can take you there."

"No, no," Ohno says, because even though his clothes are torn and he's filthy and he's sure that anyone can see what he is in just a glance, he can't go back. "I'll find my way."

 

 _interlude_ :

Ohno walks where his feet take him, knowing only that he's constantly putting distance between himself and the place where he is from. He sings because it's the only thing he knows how to do; birds gather around him in flocks, they bring him the berries that he eats, and they are the only company he has.

The tones of their coloring is more muted than he's used to, but: this is a language he knows.

 

III. THE HOUSE IN THE FOREST AT THE EDGE OF THE RIVER

Ohno spends many days wandering like this. He knows only a few things; he does not know that each day he spends walking is another day that Nino has spent sitting by Sho's side, pacing the room that Sho sleeps in, the lines of his worry strong and dark in his eyes.

Nino wants only to think of Sho, and he wants only for Sho to wake up, wake up. His heart is treacherous, though: when he closes his eyes, he can see Ohno sleeping, growing smaller as Nino leaves him behind.

Finally, it's too much for him. Nino can't just, he can't just sit there, it's too much. He thinks: if I just get something more--

He hides what he has, all the shiny trinkets, the gold and glass and cloth, and sets out, leaving a single lamp going with a full seven days worth of oil. If Sho wakes up while he's gone, Nino wants him to have light.

Nino sets off in one direction. The moon rises. His feet fall quietly.

He does not know that Ohno, weak with hunger, in pain from being so far from the place he used to call home, has caught a glimpse of something shining brightly through the trees, just a bit away.

 

IV. THE HOUSE IN THE FOREST ON THE EDGE OF THE RIVER, AGAIN

Ohno sees a light, shining in the distance. His shoes were worn through two days ago. His pants, his shirt, everything is torn and dirty. He feels so weak, unsteady, and even his voice is growing hoarse, he cannot sing.

He sees a light, and is drawn to it.

He does not know this is Nino's home, the place Nino ran to when he left Ohno, days past.

All he knows is this: there is a light, and it is shining yellow and warm from the window of a small house, and the door is unlocked, and the birds sing him no warning.

If Ohno had the energy to, he would knock. He doesn't know much about manners.

He opens the door.

It is a place like he has never seen before: simple, square, everything in the same room under one roof: a stove, cupboards, a desk, two chairs (one wooden and one soft and cushioned with threadbare velveteen), a fireplace with no fire, and there, by the window, next to the bed, a small table with a lamp.

There is someone in the bed.

"Hello?" Ohno says, suddenly unsure. The word is rough in his mouth. He can feel the warmth of the room against his skin; the night air outside is cool on his back.

He tries again to speak, "Hello--" but his voice fails him. He looks again around the room, but there is only himself, and the sleeper.

He steps inside. He's walking with unconscious care, watchful and quiet.

He shuts the door.

He's been walking for so long, now. He's so tired. He thinks: _maybe this person will wake up and find me here, and maybe he will eat me alive for trespassing._

He stands by the bed for a moment, and stares. (If Sho were awake, he might know that Ohno stares the same way Nino does, with introspection, with worry, fatigued.)

Ohno goes to the cushioned chair. It's dark green, and just large enough for him to curl into. He falls asleep, dreamlessly.

He and Sho and the lamp are quiet companions.

 

IV. THE RESTLESS SLEEP

Seven days pass. Ohno shivers awake sometimes; if it's light, he goes outside and stares at the sky and lets himself think that there might be hope for the future, if only he knew anything about the world. If it's dark, he fights himself into the kitchen, and slowly eats everything there. He doesn't know how to cook, so he eats sparingly, trying not to make himself ill. Bread, cheeses, and dried meat; there is water in a canister, but he drinks only a little at a time, to make it last.

He is drawn to Sho's side, again and again. He is fascinated by this neverending sleep, and by Sho's dark curls. Sho is a comfortable mystery.

When he gets his voice back, Ohno sings for Sho, and the desk, and the cupboard, and both the chairs. Not the flashy songs he was famous for, but the ones from his oldest memories, the love songs and childish rhymes he knew before he was aware anything else existed.

It eases the leaden weight of fear in his stomach to do this.

On the seventh day, as evening approaches, the light flickers in the lamp. Ohno, startled, stops singing. He grows still and aware of every shadow.

It flickers again, falters and dims, and finally dies out, a breath of smoke the only thing visible in the final bit of sunset.

"Oh," Ohno says, softly. "Oh, this--oh." His can't stop his heart from racing.

He moves to the bed like a thief, hunched and quick. He lies down on top of the blankets, tucking himself against Sho's smooth angles, shivering.

It's dark, dark. The moon is the barest sliver. Sho's hair is strange and reassuring on Ohno's forehead. He thinks: _maybe I could call you a friend, someday._

 

V. THE GUEST

Nino returns on the seventh day. He sees the flicker of the lamp, the light sputtering quietly as it runs out of oil. He catches a glimpse of a shadow going across the window, and his heart starts to beat faster. He thinks: Sho.

The light dies. Nino waits for it to be lit again, frozen with anticipation, surely Sho would relight it, Sho is so very logical.

The window stays dark, the darkest point in the midnight air.

Nino thinks: Sho, Sho--and he's opening the door before he's consciously made the decision to move.

The room is dark. Nino doesn't know what he's thinking; if it isn't Sho who's moving about, then it could be something dangerous. Nino thinks: I can take anything if it means Sho is safe.

Nothing moves, nothing jumps out at him. He doesn't realize it, but he stands watchful, and the birds sing out at him, owls and other night-flyers.

Ohno, on the bed, shifts and looks to the door.

Nino sees him.

"What are you doing here?" Nino says, the door wide open to the midnight air.

Ohno sits up, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. He thinks he must be dreaming. "Nino?"

"Ohno--what are you doing here?" Nino can't tell if he's relieved or not; there is some wound in his heart that makes him react like an animal. He wants to prowl around the corners of the house and sniff and touch everything and make sure Ohno hasn't upset his sense of order. (He knows that Ohno already has.)

Then: "Have you done anything to Sho?"

"I haven't done anything to him," Ohno says. "Is that his name?"

"What are you doing here?" Nino shuts the door, wills his body to fill the room up with nothing but himself.

"I woke up," Ohno says, "and you were gone. I couldn't go back." Ohno's white teeth and white eyes glisten in the dark as he speaks. "I--can leave."

Nino has this wound in him, a hole in his heart. It has been in him for so long--"You can't even fill a lamp, can you," he says. "Here, pass it here."

Ohno says: "I don't know how to," and passes Nino the lamp. Nino can tell by the hairs on the back of his neck curling upwards that Ohno is watching him, watching him, learning every step, filing it away somewhere as _how to refill a lamp_ , perhaps.

Nino pulls out the oil and fills the lamp and lights it with a match from a box by the fireplace.

Ohno says: "I can leave."

Nino knows why he chose Ohno in the first place; Nino goes for the naive, the obviously well-off, those who seem like they'll be able to go back with tears on their faces but no worse off except for a few pieces of gold.

Nino remembers thinking Ohno was that.

Ohno, Nino thinks, still is that.

There's a hole in Nino, a ragged edge down his middle, a wound he can't touch, but--

He thinks he must have somehow known something about Ohno, that some dreaming part of him saw Ohno and recognized a different kind of target.

"You should stay," Nino says, putting the matches back on their ledge, putting the oil back in the cupboard, his back always to Ohno. He can't see the look on Ohno's face, he can't see it. Ohno's looks cut right through his skin.

The lamplight makes the room seem normal (the light, Sho's soft exhalations, the color of the walls), but it isn't soothing to Nino.

Ohno says, "Nino, Nino--"

Nino turns, just a little, but doesn't look at him. "What."

Ohno stands up, takes two steps forward, stops with his hand outstretched. "Nino, can I touch you?"

"What?"

"I'm not sleeping, am I?"

Nino turns around, faces him. Ohno's still dirty, and Ohno's so clearly someone who needs so much help in his life, and he's really too much for Nino to take on when he's already got Sho.

But Ohno's look can cut through Nino's skin, and Ohno followed him instead of turning back around.

Nino holds out his hand. "Here."

Ohno's hand is warm and dry. Nino can feel him trembling, Nino can feel Ohno's pulse through their palms. Nino takes Ohno's hand in both of his, and he can't put into words why he does it, but he pulls Ohno closer, close enough that he can press Ohno's hand flat against his chest, over his heart. "You're not asleep," Nino says.

Ohno rests his other hand to Nino's cheek, so lightly--but they both can feel the lines running off of them, out of their feet, into the floor, into the earth.

"Stay," Nino says.

"Yes," Ohno says.

Behind them, unnoticed, Sho opens his eyes.


End file.
